


Torrential

by extraordinary



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Splash Free, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extraordinary/pseuds/extraordinary
Summary: By the time the tips of Makoto's splayed fingers finally make contact with the swathes of intricately embroidered fabric surrounding Rin's bed, though, it isn't just raining anymore.It'spouring.





	Torrential

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MicroKitty1313](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicroKitty1313/gifts).



> This is for **Microkitty1313**! I'm so, so, _so_ sorry it took me this long to finish a measly 2500-ish word oneshot. The words just wouldn't come out, no matter how hard I tried ( & how pathetically attached I got to this 'verse). I hope you'll still manage to find something to enjoy about this little gift ficlet... ^^;
> 
> P.S. I used the tag **[Alternate Universe - Splash Free]** , but I think it's a bit of an odd fit. It's basically Splash Free- _inspired_ , with a generous sprinkling of Magical Realism. There's also a couple of blink-and-you'll-miss-them hints of other ships in here, but I'd prefer to leave those open to Kitty's interpretation for now.

"It's going to rain tonight," Rin announces, in the exact same tone of voice he always seems to be using these days, without so much of a glance in Makoto's direction. The set of his shoulders is unmistakably severe. And his profile is deliberately hidden from view, as well. "I've already informed the guards. They'll be expecting your arrival. At dusk."

It's another _test_.

Makoto knows that's what it is. And yet, he isn't sure which one of them is being evaluated right now: Rin, the ever-present entourage of loyal retainers at his beck and call, or Makoto, himself.

Even so, Makoto nods. To the ripples in the water around Rin's bare ankles, if nothing else.

"I'll be there."

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the tips of Makoto's splayed fingers finally make contact with the swathes of intricately embroidered fabric surrounding Rin's bed, though, it isn't just raining anymore.

It's _pouring_.

"Rin...?" He tries, softly, because it's unusual for Rin to completely forgo an opportunity to watch the setting sun paint the roofs and turrets of Samezuka's sizeable settlement a wholly different colour than its usual sandy facade. It's such a gentle shade of blue tonight, too. Periwinkle, Haru'd probably call it. Or lavender, perhaps. Like the dainty set of veils securely covering Gou's long, neatly braided hair during one of her most recent visits to the market place. "You're going to miss sundown, at this rate."

As expected, there's no reply.

Unconcerned, Makoto simply eases an armful of the heavy curtains aside. "Haru's probably missing it, too," He finds himself telling the back of Rin's head, then, in a half-hearted effort to drown out the sudden pulse-like roaring in his ears. "He left for The Circle as soon as the clouds began to form." And barely half a beat later, before his nerves can manage to get the better of him, he shyly adds: "That's my roundabout way of telling you I can stay until dawn, I think."

The only visible corner of Rin's mouth twitches upwards, at that. If only just a little bit. "Makoto," He greets at last, voice low and croaky, without even bothering to open his eyes. "I'm _tired_."

Makoto promptly loses the battle with a fond smile of his own. "Yeah," He agrees, on an embarrassingly audible exhale, even as he reaches out to remove the thin summer sheets from Rin's reluctantly softening grip. "It doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon."

Rin shivers.

He's wearing nothing but a thin, silver-coloured band around his right ankle. A gift, most likely. From somebody with far more coin than Makoto could ever dream of acquiring.

And then he _sighs_.

Heart firmly lodged in his throat, Makoto scoots a little closer (until he can soothingly ghost his lips along the tense line of Rin's jaw). "Just relax. I'm pretty sure I know what to do by now," He ends up promising the freshly shaven skin he finds there, despite everything, because there's very little else for him to do on nights like this. For Rin's sake. And for _Samezuka's_ , too. While he's at it. "I'll stay with you until the sparrows wake us up, too. If you'll let me."

 

* * *

 

It isn't the dawn chorus that rouses Makoto, though.

No.

It's _Rin_.

" _'Just relax'_ ," He's whispering, right into the dip of Makoto's belly button, as if he genuinely believes it bears repeating. The blunt tips of his fingernails keep digging deeper — _and deeper_ — into the fleshy parts of Makoto's inner thighs, as well, in a blatant attempt at sabotage. They've been painted a suitable colour for the occasion. Indigo. For _power_. And a couple of other, far less pleasant implications Makoto'd prefer not to dwell on in Rin's presence. Like conformity, sacrifice, and betrothment. " _'I'm pretty sure I know what to do by now'_. That's what you said last night, isn't it? You've always been humble to a fault, Makoto."

"You shouldn't tease me like that," Makoto eventually manages, after an embarrassingly long pause, even though the words end up coming out a whole lot closer to a plea than any form of discouragement. His cheeks — and a good portion of his chest, as well — are beginning to feel even hotter now, too. If such a feat's even possible. "It's only going to make all of my blood rush _elsewhere_..."

True to form, however, Rin merely licks his lips in response.

Ever so slowly.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the intensity of his kohl-rimmed gaze lessens considerably. "There's a favour I'd like to return," He breathes into Makoto's skin, then, like he's hunting for goosebumps. And with _great success_ , at that. "Before the rain picks up again, I mean. You'll keep your hips nice and steady for me, won't you...?"

 

* * *

 

In sharp contrast with Rin's initial antipathetic demeanour, Haru immediately beckons a timidly approaching Makoto over to his side. "Watch your step," He makes sure to advise, as well, over the ominous creaking of the wooden deck (currently being forced to support far more than its intended weight). "The water level's a lot higher than you're used to. And the ladder's completely soaked through, too."

Swallowing nervously, Makoto merely tightens his grip on the railing.

"You wouldn't let me get any closer if you weren't all alone down there, would you?" He'd really like to know, first. Because — as the scion of one of Iwatobi's most affluent and well-respected clans, for starters — Haru may be free to enjoy the inexhaustible reservoir of The Circle in any way he sees fit, but he'd only just recently been granted enough authority to elevate Makoto's rank to that of _a mere servant_. And if it weren't for Rin's strategic meddling, it's likely Makoto wouldn't even be allowed to set foot anywhere near the sinkhole's guarded entrance in the first place. Not even as Haru's sole attendant. Or one of Rin's so-called favoured consorts, at that. "Matsuoka-sama is in no shape to —"

"— Rin's just as liable to push you into the water himself," Haru interrupts, with practised ease, even as he calmly presents a steady hand for Makoto to grab hold of. And if he regrets being found in nothing but a haphazardly fastened loincloth and a handful of equally careless teeth marks (brazenly encircling the base of his neck, like a makeshift choker), then he's doing an admirable job of concealing it. "If he ever catches you calling him _that_ , Makoto."

Makoto swallows again. Right around a knee-jerk apology, this time. "Haru," He half-pleads, half-presses, in favour of letting himself get even more distracted by his friend's glaringly dishevelled state. It's no longer his place to make a fuss about those kind of things, after all. Even the reticent candle maker and the dour-faced glazier — both of which regularly frequent Haru's steadily growing atelier — seem to know just what Makoto keeps getting summoned to The Temple for. Commenting on Haru's current appearance would make him a hypocrite, at best. "Is it really _gone_...?"

Haru's fingers twitch.

Noticeably.

For a split-second, it almost looks like he's considering to retract his outstretched hand. _Almost_.

And then: "Let's go home."

 

* * *

 

The following couple of nights, Makoto's dreams are filled to the brim with an all-encompassing sense of _isolation_.

Each one of them starts, as most things tend to do within the desert's scorching embrace, with a seemingly endless ocean of red-hot sand stretching out before him. Inside this infinite dreamscape, he walks — and walks, and walks, and _walks_ — until the soles of his feet are starting to leave bloody footprints behind in his wake. It's obvious, then, that he can't continue anymore. And with the foul taste of defeat thick on his tongue, he finally allows himself to come to a halt.

In order to curl in on himself.

And _wait_.

Until he wakes up gasping for breath, desperately choking out a dead man's name (in a voice that isn't even his own), and scrambling for the earthenware jug of water he'd recently taken to keeping within arm's reach. For reasons that don't feel entirely like his own, either.

 

* * *

 

The next test comes in the form of Rin's tightly clenched fists. And a pair of unnervingly familiar, storm-coloured eyes watching Makoto's every move with the oval-shaped pupils of a feline predator.

Those of a fully fledged _tiger's_ , to be exact. With a far too perceptive mien, at that. For comfort.

"What brings you all the way out here, Makoto?" Rin half-sighs, half-drawls, from his cross-legged perch on the very edge of The Circle's lowest platform. There's a bowl of fresh fruit in his lap. Along with an intimidatingly large, heavy-looking paw. One that is eerily _translucent_ , proudly bears the colours of the reservoir's bottomless depths (just like the rest of its owner's unexpectedly corporeal existence), and doesn't look like it's going to be relocating any time soon. "Without an invitation. Or your fish-brained excuse of a _master_ , for that matter."

Refusing to be cowed as easily as that, this time around, Makoto wordlessly takes a seat at Rin's unoccupied side. "It's a nice day, isn't it?" He eventually manages to greet, when he's done mirroring Rin's openly defensive posture, in a surprisingly steady tone of voice. "For a heart-to-heart, I mean."

On top of his bent knees, Rin's knuckles whiten even further. "A heart-to-heart...?"

Makoto swallows. He seems to be needing to do that a lot more than usual, lately. "Nagisa's recommendation," He makes sure to clarify, a moment later, as he reluctantly attempts to tear his eyes away from the centre of his confidant's lap. The ruffled skirt of Rin's — startlingly informal, for once, and therefore embellished with only the barest minimum of glass little beads and needlework — tunic is doing very little to hide the pale skin of his well-toned thighs from view, to begin with, and it's all kinds of _distracting_. "I'd like to give it a try, I think."

"You _think_?"

Feeling increasingly self-conscious, Makoto quickly averts his gaze altogether. "I've been having nightmares," He tells the water's faintly shimmering surface, then, in the exact same tone of voice he'd used before. A much firmer pitch than he'd ever thought himself capable of. Filled with a previously untapped resolve, as well. "Ever since the last rainfall, you know?" And then, before he can begin to think better of it, he quietly adds: "I'm pretty sure they aren't really _mine_ , though..."

There's a low, rumbling growl _._

In response.

Followed by the telltale creaking — and groaning, too — of the wooden deck, probably centuries old by now as it is, as the terrifying creature at Rin's right-hand side suddenly uncoils itself from its previously languorous sprawl. Its black-rimmed ears are lowered in agitation, now, while the tip of its striped tail dances erratically from side to side.

And, as if to make matters even worse, it seems to be on the verge of baring its teeth. Right at Makoto _._

"That's about enough, isn't it?" Rin decides (for _both_ of them), with a commendable lack of inflection, on the very end of a long-suffering sigh. "I don't know about the two of you, but _I_ sure as hell didn't come down here to —"

"I came here to talk to The Spirit of The Circle," Makoto interjects, so hastily that the words come out sounding a little misshapen, because it's high time he made his intentions known by now. To a wide-eyed Rin. And to the ageless apparition crouching low at the water's edge, as well. The late Matsuoka-sama's — **_Toraichi_** _-sama's_ , better yet — self-appointed shadow, Haru's kindred spirit, and the irrefutable source of Makoto's nightly terrors. "I don't want to be a coward anymore, Rin. I know it's been hurting you. And I just keep letting Haru-chan down, too. As its current Vessel, won't you lend me your power one more time...?"

It's Rin's turn to swallow, then.

Apparently. 

Just before he says: "Can't I do just it as your _friend_?"

 

* * *

 

 

Afterwards, with the deep blue of The Circle's reservoir gently lapping at their toes, Rin effortlessly talks Makoto into feeding him a handful of dried figs and roasted almonds. Out of a little pouch he'd somehow managed to stow away at the very bottom of the bowl in his lap (hidden underneath a veritable mountain of grapes and apricots).

One by one.

And when Makoto's rapidly dwindling supply inevitably runs out, Rin wordlessly — and almost _shyly_ , really — lowers his head down on Makoto's nearest thigh. "Braid my hair?" He requests, with an unmistakably hopeful glance upwards, once he's made himself completely comfortable. "If I return to The Pillared Room looking as unkempt as Haru's been doing lately, Ai's tears are likely to create a whole new sinkhole. Right at the Head Priestess' feet."

Makoto makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. "Are you sure that's a very good idea? I'm not nearly as good at this as —"

"Am I asking for too much, Makoto?" Rin abruptly cuts in, there, in an uncharacteristically flat tone of voice. One that Makoto's rarely heard him use in private before. "It's always so hard to tell with you."

Fingers hovering awkwardly above the crown of Rin's head, Makoto finds himself breathing out a terribly uneven exhale. "You're not just talking about my braiding skills anymore, are you...?"

Rin shakes his head.

He's smiling an awful, heart-wrenching type of smile.

And just like that — despite his very best efforts, too — Makoto knows he's failed yet another test. Today. Or somewhere along the way, maybe. "Sometimes," He tries, regardless, even as he haltingly brushes a wayward strand of hair out of Rin's eyes (like an unspoken apology). "I even catch myself wishing you'd ask for a little more, Rin."

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Makoto finally makes his way back home, Haru has already finished lighting up all of the lanterns and wax candles in the interior garden. He's curled up around Nagisa's dozing form in the hammock by the central fountain, one arm dangling all the way down to the mosaic tiling (and the other neatly tucked around Nagisa's shoulders), with his favourite incense burner set up underneath one of the wooden spreader bars. To keep the insects away.

"Makoto," He half-hums, half-whispers, as soon as Makoto leans over him to press their foreheads together in greeting. "I was just beginning to think you'd been invited to spend the night in The Temple. _Again_."

Lightly carding his fingers through the curly mess of Nagisa's sun-bleached hair, Makoto — just as self-indulgently, perhaps — allows himself a moment to simply breathe in the comfortingly familiar scent of _home_ : water lilies, desert stars, and a hint of lemon. All things that are inescapably foreign to Samezuka's soil. Just like Makoto's stopgap little family-of-three. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Haru," He eventually points out, when he's done properly reacquainting himself, in a carefully moderated tone of voice. "You know I'd never shirk any of my duties like that, don't you?"

Haru merely pretends not to have heard Makoto's whispered complaint, though. "Are you keeping me in suspense on purpose?"

A startled bark of laughter — slowly but surely — works its way up and out of Makoto's chest. "I think it went pretty well," He obligingly reveals, then, as he lowers himself down on one of the numerous pillows on the floor. "I managed to escape with all of my limbs intact, at least..."

Haru's expression remains unmoved. "And what about _your heart_ , Makoto?"

Despite his newfound courage, however, Makoto's first impulse is still to stall for a just little more time.

But then: "I'm pretty sure that's still intact, too."

**Author's Note:**

> P-please be gentle with me, OK?
> 
> There are so many things I didn't manage to squeeze in! Like Kisumi's role... and Sousuke's...!! I _swear_ they do exist in this 'verse. I promise Ren  & Ran are 100% fine, too. They haven't come of age yet, so they're still travelling with their parents under the protection of the Iwatobi Caravan. The spirit of The Circle actually has a name (and a reason for trying to communicate with Makoto through his dreams/nightmares), and I kind of ~~highkey~~ lowkey ship """it""" with Haruka. *sweats!* (Rei exists, too, but I haven't decided yet if Makoto has met him yet? Oops.)
> 
> ALSO HOW ABOUT AN OT3 SEQUEL? WITH ACTUAL SMUT, THIS TIME...???
> 
> Lastly, I have about 10K+ worth of backstory knocking about in my head, so... feel... free... to... ask...?


End file.
